Broken Wings
by Chelle Storey-Daniel
Summary: Callie's broken nose is driving her crazy. High on pain medication, she wakes up to find Erica sitting beside her. Can she finally find the words to make it right?


n broken dreams that keep me from sleeping,

I remember all the things I said,

Well I've broken all the promises,

I said I would be keeping,

They're gone, like leaves they fell,

For it's so hard when you're far away,

All I needed was a shoulder I could cry on,

Now these broken dreams have woken me,

My love, will you carry me home

*~*~*~*~*~

I'm not a stranger to broken bones.

I break them for a living.

I've broken three of my own.

My nose being broken, however, hurts worse than all three of those combined. I'd gladly trade my nose for a tibia right about now. At least with a broken leg you have a reason to lie flat that doesn't cause problems with your breathing. My nose is suffocating me and my mouth is dry from breathing through it. And my fucking water is ... over there. I really don't want to ask the nurses to roll the table closer because I've already worn them bare by asking for medication all night and most of the morning. I'll have to remember to thank Mark for being so generous with the good stuff.

I like the floating, falling, fumbling feeling of fuzzy headed ... fuckery.

Jesus ... I'm high. I'm high as hell.

And I'm thirsty.

And I can't *breathe*.

Sleep.

Sleep is good.

*~*~*~*~*~

In my dream, I'm soaring over the hospital like a bird. I can see people in the parking lot, ambulances coming into the bay, and doctors waiting to grab whatever patient rolls out on a stretcher. I can hear Yang demanding to be in charge because someone is having pain in their left arm and then I fly upward, coasting on thermals, as my wings pound at the chilly night air. I look down again and I see a blond head ... then splat against the glass window of the Chief's office, startling him enough to cause hot coffee to land in unmentionable places. Even as a bird, I fail at life.

I wake with a start, lifting my hand to wipe away the sleep from my eyes, and I hit my overgrown nose. Pain shoots up into my forehead and draws a groan from me. "Ow. Owwww."

"Callie?"

When I open my eyes the room is too bright and fuzzy around the edges. But there's nothing wrong with my ears. I'd know that voice anywhere and I turn my head toward the sound of it. She's there. Erica Hahn is standing a few feet away from me with her coat over her arm and her purse held tightly against her side. Red scrubs. She has on red scrubs and that hurts ... she always wore the navy blue ones so well. I feel wetness on my face and see the shock on hers. I've caused a geyser of blood to erupt from my nose. Before I can say anything, she tosses her things into a nearby chair and hurries forward, grabbing a handful of tissue on her way. I know it will hurt before she puts pressure on my nose and I steel myself for it, but I still try to push her hands away as she pinches. She's got a firm grip, Erica Hahn.

Too bad she lets go of the things that really matter.

I'm crying by the time she hits the call button and when she demands pain medication, I stop trying to push her away from me. There's something so commanding in her tone. Authoritative. Sure. It leaves me incapable of motion because her assertive nature ALWAYS gets to me. The nurse arrives so much faster for Erica than she did the previous night for me and I feel her quickly inject the medication into my IV. My eyes are on Erica's blue ones when the narcotics take effect and I feel my breathing slow considerably.

Lightheaded ... I close my eyes and doze ... not caring that my ex ... girlfriend? ... is still putting pressure on my nose.

She's here.

I sleep comfortably at last.

I'm not thirsty anymore.

*~*~*~*~*~

It's so quiet. Peaceful. Calm.

Sometimes the hollow silence in a hospital will devour you.

I'm awake, but I don't open my eyes. If she's not still here, if it was just a figment of my imagination, I'd much rather not know. If my room is empty, I don't want to see it. I lick my lips instead and grimace over how dry my tongue is. Something moves suddenly and I hear shoes squeak on the floor. Finally ... finally, there's a straw between my lips and I drink deeply.

"How do you feel?"

I choke, blowing water out my pathetically broken nose and promptly burst into tears. It HURTS. But I really think I'm crying because I never thought I'd hear her voice again. I missed it so much. I missed *her* so much.

Erica pulls me upright, pounding on my back which only exacerbates my problem. I catch my breath and wheeze out for her to stop.

When she takes a step back, I rub the wetness off my cheeks and stare at her.

She looks pretty in red. She always did.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Mark called me. He, uh, said that you had been injured and that he had to operate. You had a reaction to the sedation. Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "Not really. No."

It's hard to believe that there was a time when I never ran out of things to say to her. We could talk for hours on end about nothing and everything. We could laugh over a movie quote or giggle about hospital gossip and awkward silences did not exist. What slides between us now, however, is an awkward distance that neither of us can bridge. To have something to do, I hold out my hand and gesture for the water she's holding. She surrenders it and when my fingers brush against hers, I hear her gasp and it gives me strength. I still have the power to take her breath away. I look up at her and ask, "Why?"

She knows that I'm not asking why she's here. I'm not asking why her hands are shaking or her chin is trembling. I'm asking why she left. Erica is never speechless. Ever. But I have to repeat the question before she finally clears her throat and answers me. "I couldn't stay, Callie. I can't work in a place like this ... where people lie and cheat."

I rub my thumb over the condensation on the cup. "Are you talking about Izzie Stevens or are you talking about *me*?"

"Honestly? Both."

"I thought so."

"Cal-"

"Why are you here?" I ask again.

"We should talk."

I lift my chin defiantly. "So talk."

"Do you need anything? Can I get you -"

"Why did you leave?"

Erica lowers the rail and sits down on the foot of the bed. For a while, she simply sits and stares at me. I don't look away, I make her do it first. She looks to the left, toward the window, and says, "It wasn't okay. When you told me that you had slept with Mark ... it wasn't okay. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wouldn't let you touch me after that. I told you that I was on my period but I wasn't. I just ... couldn't. You knew that I didn't like you *talking* to him about us so I don't know why you thought it would be okay for you to have sex with him."

"I'm sorry." The anger that I initially felt when I realized she had waltzed back into my life is replaced by pain. I know exactly how she felt when I told her about Mark. I felt the same way when George told me about Izzie and I knew it wasn't okay. I knew that Erica was *not* okay, but it was easier to go along with her and pretend it was. "You didn't let me explain."

"Yes, I did. As much as it could be explained ... I let you. You said that you weren't seeing leaves and maybe you never would. Well, I can't do a maybe, Callie. And I especially can't do a maybe in a place like this. This hospital is -"

"I told you that maybe I would see leaves, but I would also see trees."

"What did you mean by that?"

I don't speak for a second. "That - that I would see more."

"Men? Let's not talk in circles here. As ingenious as my leaves speech was, let's not employ cheap metaphors anymore. What you meant by that, Callie, is that you wanted me, but you wanted him as well. You needed him to validate you because you were freaking out over your feelings."

"You're right, I was! I was freaking out, Erica! I didn't expect this to happen. I didn't expect to feel ... stuff ... for you. I didn't think you'd feel it back or that we would, jesus, ... I'm divorced. And until you showed up I was heterosexual and confident in my abilities with *men*. You made me a bumbling idiot. I didn't know what to *do*."

"Neither did I!" Erica snaps. "That first time on your couch ... I was terrified, Callie. I felt fourteen all over again. It felt ... clinical. Like, I was about to give you an exam."

My mouth drops open. "Oh my god. I said the exact same thing to -"

She cocks her head to one side. "To who? Mark? Because you damn sure didn't say it to me. If you had told me ... I could have made it clear that you weren't alone. This hasn't just been *your* journey. Everything you're feeling? I'm feeling it, too. The only difference is ... I don't have a fuck buddy to run to. I don't have ANYONE to talk to about it except you. And my therapist. And I think she changed her number because of me."

I clear my throat and take a sip of water and it barely rolls past the lump that I can't swallow. "I'm sorry," I finally tell her. "I wish that I had talked to you. I wish that I had done *everything* differently."

"Everything?"

I stare into her eyes and finally nod my head. "Everything, Erica. When you kissed me the first time in the elevator ... when Mark was there ... I'd do that differently."

"Is that right?" She sounds amused. I take comfort in that.

"I would have followed you. And - and after I kissed you in front of the hospital - I wouldn't have answered that page and left you standing there and I wouldn't have avoiding you for two weeks. I wouldn't have freaked out and talked about embassies and safe words during our first date because none of that mattered. And when you said that I was your glasses ... I would have climbed back in the bed with you and thanked you properly for saying the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. I did it *all* wrong and I would change *everything* ... except how I feel about you."

Erica glances down at her watch. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and then looks at me again. "It's been eight hours since you were given pain medication. So, I really don't think you're still high, but that's the most you've said to me since we started this thing so I don't know if it's the narcs talking or -"

"It's *me*." I turn and put the cup on the end table and then lean forward, putting my hand on hers. "Do you remember that day when I was in front of the X-ray panel and you put your hand on my hip and asked me if I wanted to get coffee?"

"People don't generally forget being told that they were bad at sex, Cal."

"Every day since you've been gone ... I go in there and stand at that stupid light panel and wish you would walk up behind me again." I shrug my shoulders. "I know I did it to myself. I know that I made a mess out of us, but I still want it. I still want you."

I feel her fingers twitch under my palm and then she slides them through mine. I inch a little closer and she does the same, until our knees are touching. She puts her free hand over our joined ones and says, "I took the attending position for the new cardio wing at Presbyterian. There's no drama there. No one is cutting wires or screwing in the on call rooms. But it's only a twenty minute drive so - maybe we could meet for lunch like old times."

"I don't want lunch," I say. "I want you."

"Cal-"

"I want you," I repeat, putting more emphasis behind my words.

She lifts her hand to my cheek and slides her fingertips over it, then her thumb rubs under my eye. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you. Your face is bruised."

"My outsides match my insides now. If you cracked into my chest you'd be shocked at what's not there."

"And what's that?"

"My heart. It's gone. You took it."

I watch her grin, that bashful, half smile that I love so much and I realize that her smile ... isn't the only thing I love. I love her determination; her hard as hell, no holds barred, winner take all attitude. I love that her bad ass reputation is really just a front and she lets me see her cry during cartoons. I love her fascination with black and white movies and the awkward way she 'games out an outfit' by choosing two and then flipping a coin. I love that she meticulously alphabetizes her CD collection and has one entire closet of her house devoted to concert T-shirts. And ... I even love that she walked away from me because it was a wake up call. It made me see that if she can't hold onto me ... I have to hold onto her.

She's still grinning when she moves a little closer. Her hand slides from my cheek to cup the back of my neck and I go willingly when she tugs me forward. Her lips barely dust over mine, leaving me wanting more. When she backs away and stares into my eyes, I will myself not to blink. I want her to see that I can be just as stalwart as she can be. "Callie," she whispers, her lips mere inches from mine. "You have to be sure this time. I - I can't -"

"I'm positive, Erica. I love you. I'm in love with you."

Her forehead against mine, she exhales in relief. "I'm in love with you, too. I missed you so much."

It takes me a second to process that she's crying. Her shoulders shake a little and I wrap my arms around her, running my hand over the springy curls on the back of her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Shhhh," she whispers against my ear, causing chill bumps to race over me. "It's okay."

"Do you actually mean it this time?"

When she starts to laugh, I join her. Still embracing, we giggle like little girls until she finally pulls back and kisses my temple. She lingers over it, breathing me in, and then she cautiously covers my mouth with her own. It's gentle and she takes great care in keeping her nose away from my battered one. We're still kissing when someone clears their throat and Erica almost leaps out of her skin, self consciously wiping her bottom lip.

Mark Sloan is leaning against the doorjamb, giving us a playful look. "Ladies."

Erica's eyes narrow into slits, but she doesn't say anything. Mark walks into the room and pulls a light from the pocket of his lab coat. Saying nothing, he lifts my chin and shines the light into my eyes, then up my nose. When he pulls the tip upward for a better view, I cry out. "Ow!"

"She's a whiner," Mark says to Erica. "No threshold for pain. Eternal pessimist. Lets her personal life affect her professional one. Doesn't know a damn thing about women, despite being one. And she's scared of needles. She's also stubborn, mule headed, annoying, obsessed with her sexuality, and a little on the morbid side. Plus, she wouldn't know a healthy, well balanced meal if it landed in front of her and -"

"Is there a reason why you're insulting your patient, Sloan?" Erica growls.

"Yep." Mark winks at me then slides the light back into his pocket. "I'm releasing her to you, Dr. Hahn. All of her. I've listed her faults so you're going into this thing fully aware that she comes as is. No warranty. The best thing about her is the new nose, the rest of her is a hot mess ... so there you go. Take her."

Erica rolls her eyes. "Let me get this straight ... you're giving her to me?"

Mark turns on the megawatt smile that can inspire women's panties to burn off their bodies. "Giving her to you? No. She was never mine to give, but this is twice now that I have pushed you two dimwits together. You're boring me ... so get it right." He picks up my chart and signs off on it. "If I have to be the sidekick to the hot lesbian duo ... I at least want to know that they're happy so I can imagine naked time instead of lesbian drama."

"We don't need a sidekick," Erica assures him.

"Mmm hmmm." Mark winks at her and then pats my shoulder. "You're free. Get out of here."

"Thanks, Mark." I gesture toward Erica. "For everything."

"It's what sidekicks do. I take my duties very seriously."

*~*~*~*~*~

An hour later I'm tucked into my bed at home and Erica is cooking me lunch. I'm in the process of dozing when I hear Cristina shout, "You're back! Oh, thank god!"

I don't hear Erica's reply, but I'm sure it's sardonic.

Apparently Cristina doesn't mind because she launches into a diatribe about Dr. Dixon, the strange new cardio doctor.

I fall asleep listening to the two of them bicker and clank dishes around in the kitchen.

I don't dream about flying again.

Because I'm soaring when I'm wide awake.

I'm soaring.

And I know that Erica will be here when I wake up.

Oh when I left I believed that nothing would go wrong,

I thought the whole world would be waiting for my story,

Take me back, my love, I need you now,

Come back and carry me home,

Take me back and heal these broken wings,

Come back and carry me home

The Very Happy End

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* Lyrics by Chris Deburgh - Broken Wings*


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